


about love

by extasiswings



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, Eddie Diaz is a Good Dad, Family Feels, Fluff, Getting Together, Growing Up, Introspection, M/M, Soft Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26480644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings
Summary: “This is not a love story, but love is in it. That is, love is just outside it, looking for a way to break in.”[Or: Christopher grows up, Eddie has feelings about it, and Buck finally gets them all on the same page.]
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 400





	about love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elisela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/gifts).



> There were Soft Eddie Diaz Hours a few days ago and there were several comments about Eddie and Christopher and Chris getting older and I had a lot of feelings about that so I thought I would inflict it on all of you. The alternative working subtitle for this is "Sometimes a family is a man and his son and the boyfriend he doesn't realize he's been dating for years."

“So, do you want to talk about what’s wrong, or should I just show up with a six-pack after our shift is over?” Buck asks quietly, knocking his shoulder into Eddie’s.

“You’ve been on since last night,” Eddie deflects. “The only thing you’re doing when our shift is over is going home and going to bed.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk, really—he’s gotten a lot better at it in the years since Shannon and the tsunami, since he started to feel more settled in LA, with the 118, since he started going to therapy and learned how to trust the people around him with the personal things—it’s just that his head is a bit of a mess and he’s not sure he’s sorted through enough of it to get anywhere.

“I’ll bring one over Friday then, when we’re both off,” Buck replies. “I’m sure Chris has a movie picked out already—what?”

Eddie shakes his head. “He’s going to Kevin’s house for a sleepover. For Kevin’s birthday and to celebrate the end of the first week of eighth grade. I guess they’re busy with family things on Saturday and what was I going to say? No, it’s movie night?” 

_"We can have movie night on Saturday,”_ Chris had said when he first asked, as if movie night hasn’t become a tradition that happens every Friday that Eddie and Buck both have off. But Eddie recognizes it’s hardly fair to expect their traditions to stay the same—Chris is almost a teenager, almost in high school, it makes sense that he wants to make plans with his friends instead of spending that time with his dad and his dad’s best friend—it’s just that—well. 

Everything’s changing. And Eddie knows, god does he know, that he can’t force his kid to stay a kid forever, that Christopher has to grow up and make mistakes and have all kinds of life experiences, both good and bad, and Eddie needs to let him have those things. But there’s an ache in his chest when he thinks about it, when he wonders what tomorrow will be if today is changing movie night, and he honestly doesn’t know what to do with the idea that after so many years of putting everything into being a dad, one day he’s going to wake up and Christopher isn’t going to need him anymore. 

Eddie sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “At least he let me take a first day of school picture this morning,” he says. “Don’t know how much longer he’ll put up with those.”

“Well, hey—” Buck catches Eddie’s wrist and squeezes gently before releasing it. “—I can come over on Friday anyway. We could stay in, order pizza, watch something without a Disney label that Chris would hate? Or we could go out somewhere—you know there’s that new Thai place downtown that I’ve been wanting to try.”

“The fancy one?” Eddie thinks back, trying to recall when Buck first mentioned it. “That’s the kind of place for a date—you shouldn’t waste it on me. Pizza’s fine. You want to pick the movie?”

An odd look passes over Buck’s face, but it’s gone so quickly that Eddie thinks he might imagine it. 

“Sure,” Buck replies. “Sounds good.”

Later that night, after Eddie has been thoroughly filled in about the details of Christopher’s last first day of middle school, he stares up at the ceiling while lying in bed. And he thinks about Christopher getting older and the five more years they have left before his son will go to college and leave him in an empty house. And he thinks about Buck and the look on his face when Eddie said _you shouldn’t waste it on me_ —

Before he can spiral down a rabbit hole about either of those things, Eddie rolls over and turns out the light.

* * *

The thing is, Buck knows he’s in love with Eddie. He’s known for years, is pretty sure it started sometime around their first shift and quietly grew the whole time—through Shannon and Ali and the tsunami and the lawsuit and Eddie almost dying in a well—until one day after he finally got closure with Abby, he looked up and realized it was just…there. And now it’s been years and he…lives with it. 

He’s Eddie’s best friend. He’s one of several emergency contacts for Christopher. He shows up to every science fair and school play and he and Eddie both help Christopher with homework because Buck’s over at their place more than he is at his own and it’s—it is what it is. 

He dates sometimes. Infrequently. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want everything that comes with a romantic relationship, it’s just that most of those things, he gets from Eddie, and for those he can’t—

It doesn’t seem fair, is the problem, the reason why he always ends up ending things before they can get serious. As far as he’s concerned, Eddie and Christopher are his family. Even setting aside his feelings for Eddie, he loves Chris like his own son and that’s—that’s not something that’s easy to explain to a new partner, nor is it an easy dynamic for someone else to fit into. And Buck knows Eddie has had similar problems—he’s dated as well, a few scattered weeks here and there, and then one woman who lasted all of three months before Eddie ended things for reasons he wouldn’t explain. Eddie never introduced her to Chris. Buck has always tried not to think about that too hard. 

Buck thinks sometimes that he should just bite the bullet and ask Eddie out properly, thinks sometimes that Eddie might feel the same. There have been nights over the years, random scattered moments in the late hours where a glance or stray touch could have turned into more if one or the other of them had merely been brave enough to close the distance. But the rest of the time—the rest of the time, the risk, no matter how small, of losing what they have now is enough to make Buck bite his tongue. 

What they have—it works for them. It works for Buck. What is he missing really—sex? That doesn’t matter so much. He has friendship, trust, love. Family. The rest—he can live without the rest most of the time. 

But life has always had a way of catching up to him.

It’s just before Halloween and Buck is over at Eddie’s. Eddie’s phone rings just as he’s about to tuck Christopher into bed, and with a glance Buck takes over. He ruffles Christopher’s hair, kisses his forehead, reaches over to turn out the light—

“Buck?” 

Buck pulls his hand back and looks back to where Chris has the covers pulled up to his chin.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Are you ever going to ask out my dad?”

Buck nearly swallows his tongue.

“I—what?”

Chris shrugs. “You love him, right?”

Part of Buck wants to deny it, or ask how Christopher would know—but then, he supposes he hasn’t been exactly subtle. And he doesn’t lie to Christopher. 

“Yeah. Yeah, buddy, I do.”

“So then…are you? Going to ask him out?”

Buck swipes a hand over his face. “I—I don’t know. You think I should?”

Christopher bites his lip. “I think—I think he’s lonely,” he admits. “He tries to hide it, but I think he has been for awhile. But he’s happy when he’s with you. He looks at you when he thinks you can’t see. And—” 

He looks away. 

“And what?” Buck asks.

“And then you could always be here.”

“Oh, bud.” Buck sighs and hugs Christopher tight. “I’ll be here anyway.”

“Yeah, but—then you could be happier too.”

Buck glances at the open door, his heart twisting in his chest. “I—I’ll think about it. I promise.”

“Think about what?” Eddie asks, walking back in as he slides his phone back into his pocket. 

Buck coughs. “I—” Words fail him.

“God, dad, it’s a secret,” Chris says, rolling his eyes with an affected air. Eddie laughs and ruffles his hair as well. 

“Okay,” he replies. “Keep your secrets. Just go to sleep, yeah? It’s late.”

Christopher nods. “Night, Buck,” he adds with a yawn. “Night, dad. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“So…secret, huh?” Eddie asks quietly after they leave the room and close the door. 

Buck’s cheeks flush despite himself. “For now. I—I’ll tell you, just—”

“It’s fine,” Eddie assures. “I’m just teasing—I don’t need to know, really.”

Buck clears his throat. “Who was on the phone?”

“Oh, Sophia. She was asking about Thanksgiving—”

Buck listens absently, nodding when appropriate, but distracted by the curve of Eddie’s mouth, the hint of scruff along his jaw, and Christopher’s voice in his head saying _he looks at you when he thinks you can’t see_.

“—Buck? You okay?” 

He snaps out of it when he realizes Eddie’s no longer talking and is instead looking at him in concern.

“Sorry,” Buck says. “Just tired. I should probably…head home.” _Before I do something like kiss you because it’s apparently so obvious that I want to that even your kid can tell._

The concern clears from Eddie’s face. “Okay. Well…see you at work then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

 _Coward_ , he thinks to himself as he retreats to his car to drive home. 

But…maybe one day he won’t be.

* * *

Not that there’s much of a noticeable difference given that it’s Los Angeles, but summer turns to fall turns to winter, and with it the holiday season and the halfway point of Christopher’s last year in middle school. There’s the faintest chill in the air when Eddie pulls into the parking lot in late November to pick Christopher up after school, only to see his son not waiting as usual, but lingering by the gates talking to a girl with dark hair pulled back into the sort of complicated French braids that make Eddie glad he didn’t have a daughter. Eddie pulls out his phone to text Chris that he’s arrived—rolling down the window and calling his name to announce himself seems like the kind of thing likely to get him a huff and an eye roll, even if they are running late for a physical therapy appointment—but just as he does, the girl takes a step closer and says something that makes Christopher blush furiously and glance at the ground before looking back at her with a small smile and responding. Whatever he says makes her grin widely—Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up nearly to his hairline when she leans in quickly and kisses Christopher’s cheek before rocking back on her heels and then running off. 

Instead of texting Chris, Eddie opens a new message to Buck as he tries to shove down the impending urge to panic at the thought of his kid being old enough for this.

_I think Chris has a girlfriend_ , he texts Buck, ducking his head when his son glances toward the parking lot so it doesn’t look like he’s staring. _Is he even old enough for that? Do eighth graders have girlfriends? This feels soon, thought I’d have until high school at least._

 _Calm down,_ Buck replies, and it makes Eddie almost laugh because given how Buck reacted to Christopher going to summer camp the first time, he doesn’t have a leg to stand on, but before Eddie can point that out, another message comes in. _You raised an amazing kid, I bet at least five different people in his class have a crush on him. It’s probably harmless at this age anyway—holding hands on the playground at recess, that kind of thing. And Chris is smart and responsible, I’m sure he’s fine_

 _I might not be fine though_ , Eddie thinks.

He thought he had more time, is all. More time to prepare for Chris to start growing like a weed and eating everything in sight, more time to prepare for girls and dating and The Talk and the inevitable heartbreak of being a teenager. He wishes he could protect his son from all the bad parts—kids being mean and the crushes that go unreturned, the relationships that just don’t work out no matter how much it seems for a dizzying week or two that you’ll never want anyone else, the school assignments that don’t come as easy as others, and everything else—to wrap him in bubble wrap and hug him tight and never let go.

But. It’s like the skateboard. 

Kids grow up. They do things they want to do, take risks with their hearts, with themselves. And _unlike_ the skateboard, not everything that Christopher is going to want to do falls into the category of _let’s try it together first_. 

Eddie’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice that Chris has made his way over to the truck until he hears the sound of the door handle clicking and is abruptly forced back to reality, moving to unlock the door. 

“Hey—good day?” He asks, trying not to immediately blurt out the question on the tip of his tongue which is, _so who is the girl_. 

Christopher glances over while reaching for his seatbelt and makes a face. “Why do you look so weird?”

And somehow, that more than anything loosens the knot of tension in Eddie’s chest and makes him laugh. Because that’s his kid—perceptive, a little sassy, and eternally calling him on it when he’s being ridiculous. 

“That’s just my face,” Eddie replies. He makes it as far as the street before he says, “So…should I ask who the girl you were talking to back there was, or be a cool dad and pretend I saw nothing?”

“You’ve never been cool though,” Chris says before blushing again and going very quiet, biting his lip as he picks at a stray thread on the hem of his sweater. He’s quiet for so long, in fact, that Eddie’s about to reassure him that he really doesn’t have to talk about it when Chris fidgets in his seat and exhales.

“Her name’s Marisol,” he admits, cheeks still red. “She’s in my reading group and my science class. And she’s really smart and pretty and popular and um—she asked me to the dance that’s happening right before winter break? And I think I said yes?”

“You _think_ you said yes?” Eddie can’t resist teasing just a little. “Wouldn’t you know if you did?”

“ _Dad_.” Christopher puts his head in his hands and Eddie takes one hand off the steering wheel in order to squeeze his shoulder.

“Okay, okay, I’m done, I promise,” Eddie says. “But that’s exciting, bud. I didn’t realize you had a dance coming up.”

“I didn’t know if I wanted to go,” Chris admits. “So I didn’t say. But I do now.”

There’s a lot that could be unpacked there, but Eddie knows he’s coming up to the limit of what he can push about, so he lets it go. 

“Sounds fun,” he replies. “So, other than getting asked on a date—what else did you do at school today?”

He listens to Chris chatter on about learning how to use chemicals to make fire change colors in science class—"Like fireworks, dad!”—and how he got to read a part out loud in class for the play they’re studying in English and Eddie relaxes even more. 

“Hey, dad?” Christopher asks that night, pausing in the doorway to his room as he makes his way to bed.

“Yeah?” 

“Do you think we could go to the planetarium this weekend? Just the two of us?”

Eddie blinks in surprise, thrown a little the way he always is lately whenever Christopher specifically brings up some kind of father-son time, and yet fiercely grateful as well to know he hasn’t lost that either.

“Sure,” he replies. “That sounds great.”

Chris smiles. “K. Night, dad. Love you.”

“Love you, kid.”

His phone rings around 11 after Christopher is asleep. _Buck_.

“So. Girlfriend, huh?” Buck says.

Eddie huffs a laugh and stretches out on his bed. “Not quite, apparently. Crush. First date. There’s a school dance, she asked him out. He’s been blushing and smiling all afternoon.”

“Cute.” There’s a brief pause on the other side of the line and then— “Guess he really is growing up, huh?”

“Guess he is.” Eddie stares up at the ceiling, his thoughts scattered and swirling. But what he lands on is— “You know, I feel like I was barely more than a kid myself when he was born. And then there was the army and then I came back and just—I put everything into being his dad, that was all that mattered. But now he’s growing up and he needs different things and I worry that I’m not…qualified? To help him figure out what he wants in life because I never really figured that out myself.”

“You’re in your thirties, Eddie, not on your deathbed,” Buck teases quietly. “You’ve still got time.”

Eddie swallows. “I know, but—”

“But?”

“He was so happy today. Because his crush asked him out and kissed him on the cheek. He wasn’t overthinking it or telling himself it wasn’t what he thought or that he wasn’t good enough. He was just…happy.”

Buck’s quiet for a long time. “Well…it’s easier for him,” he says finally. “He’s still a kid. There isn’t any baggage attached to those things. Feelings. Relationships. He hasn’t learned to be scared yet.”

“I’m not _scared_ ,” Eddie insists on instinct, but even as he says it he knows it isn’t true. 

If he wasn’t scared, he would have asked Buck out years ago. Would have kissed him on any of the many occasions where the lingering tension between them pulled taught or burned under his skin. Would have asked Buck if he means the casual flirting and lingering touches and the dates that only aren’t dates because they don’t call them that. Would have asked if he wants—

“I am,” Buck replies. 

“What?”

“Scared. Of putting myself out there again. Of getting hurt. Of…hell, of being happy maybe. Or…happier. Of asking for more if it might risk losing what I have now.”

Eddie’s breath catches. Because that’s—that sounds an awful lot like—

He’s tried so hard not to want, not to hope, not to even think about it, about the possibility of _them_ , even though that’s a wholly impossible endeavor. But, he can’t think of anything else in Buck’s life that he might—that he would say—

“You wouldn’t,” he says before he can stop himself. “Lose it.” _Lose me. Lose us._

Buck hums. “No?”

“No.” Eddie’s chest hurts. He feels like he’s barely breathing.

“You know, it’s a little funny—you’re not the only one to say that to me recently.”

“Oh? Who else did?”

“Christopher,” Buck admits. “Not quite in those words, but that was the gist.”

“Buck…” Eddie trails off, too many words, and yet not enough, stuck in his throat.

“So, when’s this dance?” 

Thrown again, Eddie tries to remember. “Uh…the 12th, I think.”

“And they’ll probably need chaperones, right?”

“Probably.”

“Well…” Buck laughs. “Hey, Eddie, do you want to go to the dance with me?”

Eddie bites his lip against a grin. He feels a little like a teenager again himself, heat rising in his cheeks, his pulse racing—

“No,” he says, because he can’t let Buck have all the fun.

“No?”

“Christopher would kill me if I crashed his first date to chaperone,” Eddie explains. “Dinner though…dinner would be nice.”

“Dinner…I think I can manage that.” Silence falls. But it’s not unpleasant. Not due to a lack of things to say, but rather too many. A silence of possibility rather than doubt. 

“You should get some sleep,” Buck says finally. 

“Maybe,” Eddie acknowledges. But he doesn’t want to hang up without— “Buck, I—” The words don’t quite come.

Buck seems to hear them anyway though. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight, Buck.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

Two weeks later, Buck knocks on the door of Eddie’s house only to be beckoned in with a call of, “It’s open!”

He finds his two favorite boys in Christopher’s room, having a spirited discussion over Christopher’s fashion choices.

“I’m not wearing a _tie_. God, dad, ties are for _losers_ ,” Chris complains.

“It’s a date, Chris, don’t you want to look your best?”

“I look fine without it.”

Both of them look over when Buck raps his knuckles on the door frame. 

“See? Buck’s not wearing a tie,” Chris points out.

Buck bites back a grin. “Well, I heard ties are for losers, so—”

Eddie mutters something Buck doesn’t catch under his breath, but he’s fighting a grin so Buck takes it as a win anyway.

“Have it your way, then,” Eddie concedes. “Do I at least get a picture?”

“You can have three,” Christopher allows.

“Oh, well, in that case—”

After another fifteen minutes, Marisol’s mother picks Christopher up, the door closes behind them, and Eddie looks over at Buck again, the two of them finally alone.

“Hi.”

Buck snags Eddie’s wrist and tugs him in close just because he can. “Hi. I suppose we should probably head out ourselves if we want to make our reservation.”

“In a minute,” Eddie says. “There’s something I’ve been waiting to do for awhile.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“This.”

Eddie’s lips are softer than Buck expects them to be. 

They miss their reservation.

And Buck stays.


End file.
